


Anyone Can Cook

by ruff_ethereal



Category: Star vs. The Forces Of Evil
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-02-03
Updated: 2015-02-03
Packaged: 2018-03-10 07:07:43
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 803
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3281381
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ruff_ethereal/pseuds/ruff_ethereal
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Star attempts to cook Marco breakfast. This story takes place in the aftermath.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Anyone Can Cook

The pancakes were charred black, the sausages had tied itself into knots, one link frozen on one side, overcooked on the other, and the waffle iron was permanently fused shut with a bond stronger than steel.

The crepes had literally turned to air, the chocolate rice porridge refused to let go of the ladle, more fingers than vegetables or fruits had been cut.

The Diaz kitchen was a disaster, food stuffs and some streaks of blood staining every available surface, utensils, pots, and pans strewn about like wrecked vehicles and ruins in the wake of a brutal, prolonged war.

In the center of it all was Star Butterfly, half-heartedly scrambling two eggs in a pan with a spatula. Behind her, the toaster ticked away merrily—Marco was right: it really was too simple to screw up.

Ding! Two pieces of perfectly browned toast popped up, ready to be served. At the same time, Star turned off the heat on the stove—or it died all on its own, she wasn’t really sure.

Star pulled open a cabinet that wasn’t cemented shut by organic material and pulled out a plate. She forced an almost completely stuck drawer three inches open, and managed to fish out a fork from the interior. With a heavy sigh, she set about plating.

It was a very simple meal: two pieces of browned, buttered toast, and fluffy, golden scrambled eggs.

In Star’s head, this would have been an appetizer, a tiny part of a luxurious banquet, complement to the more complex and eye catching pieces like the mound of crispy, golden brown bacon, or the omelette bursting at the seams with fresh vegetables.

In reality, it was the only thing she had to show that was most assuredly edible, and not exploded, burnt, knotted, evaporated, ruined, or over or under cooked in any way, shape, or form.

Star looked down at her meager offering. She sniffed, and blinked back her tears; the last thing it needed was a light dressing of hot, salty Despair. With a deep breath, she sidestepped the worst of the messes on the floor, marched out of the kitchen, and up the stairs to Marco’s bedroom.

She could hear him karate-ing up a storm behind the door; even if he wasn’t breaking boards, it was clear that Marco wasn’t trying to achieve inner peace nor attune himself to the waves of the universe this morning.

Still wary of the disasters that had befallen any one-handed endeavors, Star held the plate with both hands. “Knock, knock! Marco, I brought you breakfast!”

A battle cry stopped right in the middle. The door opened soon after, and there was Marco, dressed up in his gi, breathing hard, his whole body dripping with sweat.

Star forced a smile on her face and carefully held out the plate towards him.

“Oh, cool, thanks!” Marco said, taking it from Star, one hand holding it up, the other on the fork and picking at the eggs. He shoveled some of it into his mouth.

Star closed her eyes and prayed.

“Mmm!” Marco hummed in appreciation. “These are pretty good!”

Star opened her eyes, her mouth falling open. “They are?”

Marco nodded and hummed again. His prepared another forkful of eggs and a bite of buttered toast. “Thanks, Star!” He said before he continued to chow down.

Star beamed. “You’re welcome, Marco!” She stood there, grinning and happily watching the plate of eggs and toast rapidly disappear with hungry, eager bites.

Marco sighed in content, the plate swabbed clean with a piece of toast. “That was delicious!”

Star grinned. “I know, right? Turns out I really can cook!”

“Yep!” Marco nodded, “And as thanks, I’ll do the dishes for you.”

The smile disappeared in an instant. “What?!”

Marco blinked.

“I mean... what? No! I’ll do it, I’m heading back downstairs anyway, and you’ve… got more karate practice to do!”

“Actually, I’m done;” Marco replied, “Those last ones were just an extra set to really work up an appetite before breakfast—perfect timing, huh?” He chuckled.

Star laughed nervously. “Hah, right, perfect timing! Seriously, though, I’ll do the dishes.”

Marco looked at Star warily, but handed the plate back to her all the same. “Okay… but I’m coming back down with you; I need water and my pitcher ran out already.”

Star nearly dropped the plate.

Marco sighed. “The kitchen’s a mess, isn’t it?”

Star nodded.

Marco retrieved his glass and water pitcher. “No magic, okay?” He said as he stepped out, “We’re doing this the normal, boring Earth way; I don’t want you accidentally sucking the kitchen into a black hole or making a breakfast food monster.”

Star nodded again. “Okay.”

Like a veteran and a greenhorn marching off to battle, they marched down the stairs side by side, and into the kitchen.


End file.
